Time Nor Tide
by OutCold
Summary: First in the TIME SERIES. Follows Ziva's move from NCIS back to Mossad and all that ensues. Prequel to Time Flies. COMPLETE.
1. Fall Away Beneath Her

_Disclaimer: Guess what? Don't own NCIS. What a surprise._

_A/N: This is a prequel of Time Flies, following Ziva from when she left NCIS, up to the time of TF. It's not my top priority for the moment, so I may take a while between UDs. And it hasn't been edited, so there's prob. a bunch of mistakes._

_A/N2: For those of you who care - I'M BACK IN THE UK!!!_

* * *

Ziva knew, really, from the beginning, that it wasn't going to be as easy as they made out. She tried to pretend, for them, for herself, that it could be. She liked to indulge in the thought that she could slip between her two lives easily, and not lose one because she had to return to the first. She wasn't fooling anyone. Looks had been shared between them all, since the phone call. Abruptly ended by each person, a universal sign of hopelessness and fear that they refused to acknowledge. It was just like her father to call her at work, from MTAC. It was, after all, official business. She didn't bother hiding anything from him. What was she to do, when he told her to return to Israel, smile? Even she could not lie that well. And so she said her goodbyes to NCIS, to the family she had found so unexpectedly. To the team she had more allegiance to than to her father; to the agency she belonged to more than Mossad. And when they asked her to email, or call, or send a card, she didn't express doubt, but readily agreed to keep in touch. Who knew, maybe she was just being pessimistic. They came to the airport to see her off, since her flight was on a Sunday.

Abby winded her with a hug like an iron vice.

"Email me," she demanded.

"I will."

"Every day."

"Abby . . ."

"Every week," she amended.

"When I can, Abby."

"Often."

Ziva smiled.

"As often as I can," she promised, and hugged her back.

Tony grinned at her.

"I'm not sure I want you off learning _more _ninja skills."

"There are no more for me to learn, Tony," she replied, raising her eyebrows.

His eyes widened in mock horror.

"I'm glad you didn't tell me that before."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but she quickly moved forward and clapped her hand over it.

"No movie quotes."

He shut his mouth.

She whispered for a while into McGee's ear. He looked amazed.

"Really?"  
"Really."

"What?!" asked Tony.

"Just giving him some pointers. Goodbye, Tim."

"Pointers? What kind of pointers? What did she tell you, Probie?"

McGee reached out to the back of Tony's neck, and pinched. He convulsed slightly.

"Ow!"

Ziva smirked.

"Have fun, my dear. Do try and keep in touch, though I'm sure you'll be busy," said Ducky with a kind smile.

She grimaced jokingly.

"I'm sure. Take care of yourself, Ducky, Jimmy."

"And you, Ziva," said the younger man who had been all but silent.

"Good luck, Ziva," Gibbs said, and slipped her the NCIS badge that Leon Vance had given him, with a knowing, regretful smile.

"And to you, Jethro," she had said, subconsciously addressing him as she had when it was him leaving, and leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

As she passed through security she cast one look back, to Tony and McGee now bickering, to Abby, who slipped her hand into Gibbs' and leaned her head on his shoulder, waving sadly with the other hand, to Ducky, who nodded at her, and Palmer at his side, smiling weakly, and giving a small wave. She wished suddenly for a camera, to catch this moment and a thousand others that she had thought so little of at the time. She waved, and turned away. The airport wait seemed to drag on forever, though later she could remember very little of it. When she finally got on the plane, she curled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms round them, unwilling to tear her eyes from the window, through which she watched her home fall away beneath her.

-----

"Papa," Ziva greeted as she entered his office.

Eli David rose to hug her. She accepted it, but didn't reciprocate the gesture. He poured two cups of tea and passed one to her, raising the other to his lips.

"Ziva. It's good to have you back. How was the plane?"

_Hell_.

"It did not crash," she said with a small smile. "How are you?"

"I am well, Ziva. Busy -"

"Of course."  
"- but well. And you?"

_Homesick. Already._

"Tired. I will enjoy my sleep tonight."

_If I get any._

Eli nodded. "I won't keep you too long. There's a problem in the Gaza Strip that I wanted to discuss with you."

_Because that will not take long at all._

"The Gaza Strip is a problem in itself."

He snorted. "Well, yes. But I think this one is slightly easier to handle."

-----

Ziva let go of her bag and heard it thump to the floor. She stared dejectedly around the apartment. Her apartment. It was going to take a lot of adjusting to. Unable to face unpacking, she tugged out her laptop and plugged in the USB wifi that she would be using until she sorted out internet, praying that it would be working. Opening up her browser, she began to compose a few emails.

**Abby,**

**Too tired to type multiple emails, so please show this to everyone.**

**Plane journey went smoothly, and on time. Checked in at Mossad and talked to my father**

She looked at the last two words, and tried to decide which man she had in fact been talking to. She erased them.

**the Director. Normal business resumes tomorrow. No rest for the evil. Or something like that. Settled into my new apartment – well, not really. Sitting with my laptop in my knees with my as yet unpacked bag beside me. I'll get round to it. **

**Miss you, :(**

**Love,**

**Ziva**

She hovered her cursor over the send button, and eventually pressed down. It wasn't Shakespeare, but it would do. She shut down the laptop and made her way through mundane bedtime routine, before crawling under the covers and shutting her eyes, knowing she would eventually drift off.

**-----**

_A problem in the Gaza Strip. _Ziva watched the 'problem' turn the corner. She balanced the rifle carefully against her shoulder, and peered through the eyepiece. As she was in perfect position, she gently pulled back the trigger. She stood abruptly and threw the gun into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She strode out of the hotel, smiled at the receptionist – the room was booked for two more nights – and walked away from the body in the street. _Welcome back to Mossad._

* * *

_Pretty please review._


	2. By Burning Rage

_Disclaimer: I own a punchbag, boxing gloves, a candle and an iPod. Interesting combination for dealing with powercuts._

_A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, I did warn you._

* * *

Ziva stumbled through her door, kicked off her running shoes and collapsed in a chair, her breathing beginning to calm. The past three months had been busy to the point of madness – some of it created by herself, as a distraction, some by her job. Her father had been overworking her drastically, throwing every assignment at her that he could, but she didn't blame him. She was even slightly grateful, she knew how people were looking at her, judging her, waiting for her to slip up so they could be proven right. _Such a _shame_, she was so promising. He should never have allowed her to go to America. _But she wouldn't make a single mistake. She had to be flawless. She had to prove that she was still _worthy _of Mossad. And she was. And she would. The apartment had improved in whatever time she had left between work, exercise, eating, sleeping . . . She had acquired living room furniture, a small table for eating at when she had company, and she had unpacked the few possessions she had brought with her. The place wasn't homely, but it was better. She booted up her laptop to check her email.

**Hiya Ziva,  
Everyone's great here. Still missing you, of course, you'll have to visit soon. Gibbs was grumpy with Vance when he wanted to assign a newbie to the team, so they shuffled in Lucas Logan, the guy who sat at the desk behind you, remember? Anyway, he seems to be able to cope with it quite well. Tony and he are consistently getting on each other's nerves, and subsequently on everyone else's. McGee's walking around with an inflated ego because his latest book just came out. He and Lucas seem to either bond or fight over computer stuff. Duck-man took me to a ballet – a guy jumped up and landed in splits. It looked sore. I tried it. I failed. It was sore. Jimmy got a girlfriend but she freaked out and left when she worked out what pathologist meant. He doesn't seem too cut up about it.  
Umm, ummm, one sec, Gibbs. Oops. Didn't mean to type that. He's hounding me for results. He says hi, and he loves and misses you. Big hugs all round. Well, he doesn't, but he means it. I can always tell. :D  
Love,  
Abby  
P.S. Have you ever seen a crocodile in the flesh? I figured you'd be the one to ask.**

**Hey Ziva,**

**Yeah, I'm good. How are you?  
**

**We have a new agent on our team – Lucas Logan. I expect you remember him. It's quite nice not to have to deal with a new person. He seems a decent sort, and already knows Gibbs, which is always useful, at least for him.  
**

**Abby's going through a crocodile obsession at the moment. Tony's going through a torture the new kid obsession, but it doesn't seem to be working too well. Sure, he gets in a few blows, but so does Lucas.**

**The next Deep Six book is out now, it's called Act Of War. I'm rather proud of it. I'm meant to be a while into writing the next, but I can't seem to start.**

**Good to hear from you,**

**McGee**

**Z,  
New guy's really getting on my nerves. Calling me 'Lil' Ozzo'. Is OK, because there are plenty ways to tease 'Lucas L. Logan'. Still annoying though. Not that I didn't already know that.  
McGee's all puffed up like a peacock. Abby's fallen in love with crocodiles, and is walking funny for some reason. Gibbs is Gibbs.  
Have had a couple of hard cases, but am OK.  
Have you seen "The Prestige"?  
T**

Ziva chuckled to herself at all the different perspectives of life at NCIS, and carefully composed replies to each. She then shut it down, and took a shower, enjoying the water beating against her thoroughly exhausted body. The pace of Mossad was stressful compared to that of NCIS, a gulf seemed to have appeared between Ziva and the people who used to be her friends – only a few had accepted her back even with how she had changed. Only about two viewed her changes the way she did, as improvements.

Stepping out of the shower, her mobile began to ring.

"David?"

The voice on the other end of the phone, one of her superiors, briefly informed her there had been some shooting nearby. At his request, she flung on some clothes, shoes and weapons, and strode out the door. Rushing into her car, she then threw the vehicle around the streets of Tel Aviv, to a hotel from where flurries of gunshots were heard at irregular, frequent intervals. A good friend of hers, one of her best in Israel, Kaniel, shortly arrived with a team that he split in two, designating half to Ziva.

"Don't worry, Zee," he said with a smile, "eventually they'll stop testing you and you'll be able to sleep like a normal person. Not that you're particularly normal, but we'll pretend you've not returned as an America-softened Mossad agent with a penchant for idioms and obscure films, shall we?"

She chose to ignore the jibe, focus on work, and hit him later. After a quick discussion, during which she fixed up the bullet-proof vest he had handed to her, she took her officers around the back of the hotel, entering through a service entrance. She saw a man in a black balaclava with a semi-automatic weapon, and quickly fired a shot through his head. She silently directed her team in down different corridors, she and a few more continued to run straight on. She kicked through one door that had been locked from the inside, efficiently taking out a terrorist. The parents lay dead, but three children cowered by the wall, stained with blood and plaster from when bullets had struck the walls. She looked at them.

"להישאר. להסתיר," she told them, and the eldest managed to nod and drag his siblings into the next room.

The others were already going through nearby rooms, so she continued to run. Most of the lights were destroyed, but enough still worked to give the place an eerie dim glow. After a while, she'd discovered, chaos becomes one of those things you just deal with. Her mind automatically switched to a different state, where she aimed and killed when she saw a threat like a knee-jerk reaction. She felt like she'd been in this place forever, in reality, it had probably only been a few minutes. And she continued on autopilot. She didn't know how many she killed, she didn't know how many she saved. She saw Kaniel up ahead, he whipped around the corner into a different passage and he fell. She sped up from her steady run to a sprint and was soon by his side. One look told her he was already dead. She chased down after his invisible killer, but the only sign she got was the noise of a car screeching out onto the road. She ran back into the building, autopilot off, taking the same actions as before, just now fueled by burning rage. The gunfire soon died down, and ambulances and more Mossad began to arrive.

"Ziva?"

She was aware of her name being said, and turned around. A phone was held out to her.

"Director David for you."

She took the phone, flipped it shut, and turned back to kneel by her friend's body.

* * *

_This one's actually **longer **than it looks. A miracle. Please review._


	3. A Very Long Time

_Disclaimer: Don't own Eli, Ziva, or Mossad. Or NCIS, for that matter, the agency or the show. _=D

_A/N: So I'm sorry practically nothing happens in this chapter, but it introduces pretty much the main element of this story, and I thought I'd give a bit of insight on Eli. I view him as a bit like Ari – love and hate and obsession and general confusion. I hope I get it across._

* * *

Eli David watched his daughter enter his office. He didn't offer her tea, they had moved past such niceties after Kaniel died. Three months, and they hadn't exchanged basic conversation – 'how are you?', 'nice weather', not even 'good morning' or 'good afternoon'. It was another layer added to their deep and complex relationship. Sometimes he felt, despite everything that had happened to her, Ziva could view the world in a very simplistic light. If it fit in with the way she saw things, she could forget that she wasn't the only one who'd known Kaniel for a long time, forget that her father had also remembered him as a gap-toothed child, a gawky teenager, a Mossad newbie finding his feet. Still it made him proud of Ziva that she had hung up on him. Angry, certainly, and though he'd never admit it, maybe a little hurt. But yes, proud.

The barely suppressed hatred in her gaze, though, wounded him deeply. Eli David loved his daughter. He understood, of course, why people might doubt that; he wasn't unaware of the fact that he'd always put Mossad first. It wasn't like he'd forgotten all the dinners, holidays, school events, birthdays and Hanukahs that he'd missed. It wasn't as though he didn't realise that he'd engineered his eldest as a Mossad weapon, that he'd sent both Ari and Ziva into scenarios that most parents couldn't even imagine. But no matter what, he loved all his children. He loved Ari, still, and he loved Ziva, and he loved Talia. He'd loved Ari best. Parents weren't meant to have favourites, he knew, but his son and himself had been on the same wavelength, not to mention allies in a female household. And he was about to do it again, about to throw his child further into the deep end of Mossad, because like it or not, she was Mossad, she was Israeli, and he couldn't stand to watch her longing for NCIS, for America.

"Director?"

Her voice broke through his thoughts. She never called him 'papa' anymore.

"Ziva. Take a seat."

She stood. He sat, and raised an eyebrow at her. She settled for halfway, perching on the arm of a chair. He would take what he could get.

"I have an assignment for you."

He held out a file toward her. They sat in silence for about ten minutes as she read. It gave a brief history of a growing organisation of hired mercenaries in Egypt, with definite ties to Al Qaeda and Hamas.

"Deep cover." He nodded mutely, she resignedly. "I'll do it."

"I know."

The two words said it all, there was no way she couldn't do it, there wasn't a choice in this matter. He looked at her absent eyes. She looked so broken. It was such a shame, but there was no alternative. He was angry, at NCIS, and him for allowing her to go there, she had been so promising. No one else saw her fall; all they saw was her calculated precision. She was still an exceptional agent. Just not as good as she could have been. She nodded again.

"Thank you, Director. What's the team?"

"You, me, Leila."

"Do you have a time estimate?"

"No. As long as we need you there. Gathering information."

"Waiting until you decide to take the place down."

He didn't answer. She knew she could be there for a very long time.

-----

It was on a whim that Eli decided to visit the gym – not for himself, but because he knew Ziva would most likely be there. He was right. Ever since a young age, if Ziva was frustrated, or upset, or angry, she liked to exert herself physically as much as possible, and if she hurt herself, well, all the better. It had worried him, it still did, but he understood now that it was her way. The lights in the gym were all off, a little light creeping in from the speedily falling dusk outside, and Ziva, her hands bound, was by a punch-bag. Eli winced at the first few hits, but smiled as she continued. Wires trailed up to her ears, and her lips occasionally moved, mouthing the words of a song. She moved speedily, lightly, and hit the bag with incredible force. And Eli just watched her, tears, to his extreme shock, leaping to his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

He thought about talking to her, but what could he say? There was no more left for him to say to her at all. All the words had been and gone, and nothing was any better for it. He had tried to show her how much he loved her, but he couldn't let her be priority. Family had always been second on the list. It hurt, but if you dedicate your life to Mossad, then that's what you have to do. And he hated her too. He hated her for her rebellion, hated her for not wanting to be here, hated her for making him feel so cold. Hated her for not loving him like he loved her. And hatred for all the guilt. Every time she looked at him, the guilt flooded his veins again, guilt about Tali, for no good reason, guilt about Ari, guilt about sending her to America, guilt about ordering her back to Israel, guilt for bringing her into his world of danger, and horror, and pain. Guilt for everything she'd been through for it. Guilt for hating her.

He watched as she flew one last kick at the bag, and began to unwrap the bandages. She violently tugged out her earphones and began to walk toward him, though she hadn't yet seen him. She turned suddenly, took two massive strides back to the punch-bag and hit it with all her remaining strength. He could see it hadn't satisfied her as much as she had hoped, and was well aware that she was going to further punish herself later – go out for a run, cycle or swim perhaps. Maybe kill a few people. As she returned to her aim of getting out the door, he realised he was last person she wanted to see right now. He left. Quickly.

* * *

_Tell me, if you do review, why don't you give us a hand on this survey, I don't wanna change my poll. Just tell me if a really nice grovelling authors note begging you for reviews makes you more likely to hit the button, or if it really just depends on your mood. _


	4. Give Me A Call

_Disclaimer: Don't own. That simple enough for you all?_

_A/N: I am SO sorry it's taken me this long to UD. I've had a horrible, horrible, horrible case of writer's block. I blame school, but don't we all. I wrote the first bit ages ago, but stalled._

_A/N2: This one's for:  
1. x . holli . x - I know she likes this fic, and it was because we were talking that I made myself write the first bit all that time ago.  
2. FadeIntoTheBackground - for counseling me through my block a bit. Was very helpful. Ta.  
Check out both their stuff, but take the spaces out of Holli's name. _

* * *

The seaplane skimmed the surface of the water, slowing to a stop by a jetty. The desert stretched out for miles either side, and the jetty itself was little more than a few planks of wood nailed together. A dirt road was visible leading across the sand. Ziva stepped out and walked down to the end of the jetty. She heard the plane set off again, but didn't turn. A car trundled along the road; it had been making its way for some time, but eventually reached her. She didn't talk to the driver. Her hair was tied back severely, to keep her neck cool, all she had with her were the clothes she wore and a rucksack hanging off one of her shoulders. She wound the window down slightly, and warm air rushed through the car. NCIS seemed a world, a lifetime away from her now. She had emailed them all, individually, to tell them she soon would be away, and she didn't know how long for, but it would be a while. She did it soon before she left, leaving no time to read their replies. She didn't think she could stand it. The moment her plane had taken off in Tel Aviv, she had left behind the Ziva of NCIS, even the fragments she had been carrying with her. Obviously she was changed in some irreversible way, but the memories, the warmth and love seemed all like a dream now, or maybe something she'd watched on television a long time ago. It's the same way she feels when she thinks of her childhood, of an alive Talia, a carefree Ari. She has to remind herself that no one from NCIS is dead, that it's she who left them, not the other way around.

A few hours later, they reached Alexandria. She paid her driver, and walked into the room she booked. With any luck, she'd soon be living in a compound in the desert, ran by the SOO. Until then, this self-catering apartment is hers. The emotion is not unlike her most recent homecoming, this place is not so much more foreign to her than Israel now is. There is no particular pain at the thought of all the time she will spend in Egypt, no contact with friends in America or Israel. Ziva wondered if she could no longer really be hurt, if the tear from NCIS severed or numbed crucial emotional nerves, and if that was a bad thing or a good one. It certainly wouldn't be a hindrance in Mossad, but losing the humanity she worked so hard to learn to show was crushing. It felt like everything was being stripped from her. She shook her head to clear it. There was no time for looking back anymore.

Her first objective was to ingratiate herself. That's almost the fun bit, she gets to make her entrance with a bang. From there it'd be slow, hard toil. Months, years, of pretending to be someone else. Always sneaking around, always waiting for the nod to actually do something. She tried not to think about it, and failed.

-----

She didn't get an opportunity for four months. At first it seemed useful, giving her time to settle in, buy food, clothes, extra ammo. Then it had become irritating, but it had eventually reached a stage of tedium. She'd fallen into routine. She met Leila every fortnight, usually just to confirm her cover was intact, and hear any news from Israel.

She woke up in the morning and went for a run, going back to her apartment to wash, eat and change before calling a taxi. She met Leila at a small suburban café. The first thing she noticed about her friend was the strange expression on her face – not one that was unfamiliar to her – an odd mix of joy and fear.

"What is new?"

"We have an in for you."

Ziva couldn't hold back a smile. The thought of the wait ending cheered her immeasurably. She listened to the briefing, and after about an hour, they paid and stood to leave.

"Good luck, Zee."

"Yes, you too. Give my love to Ba'al."

Leila wrapped her in a hug. There were very few times Ziva could remember properly hugging someone, and mostly it was Leila or Abby.

-----

Jason Redding walked tentatively up the stairs. He may have been a highly trained and skilled operative, but he did not relish making his way to the roof of this decrepit building, with one stair of every three broken or missing. _I better get paid damn well for this hit. _Logically he knew he would be, the target was a high up Al Qaeda member. All he had to do was pull it off and not get caught. If he didn't succeed, the SOO took all the pre-payment, if he got caught the SSO took seventy-five percent of the entire sum, if he pulled it off, they took ten percent. It was a good deal as far as Jason was concerned, they dealt with the clients, gave him the assignments. If he needed additional training they took it off the payment. The compound had good facilities, and even though soon, once he had been a member for five years, he would be permitted to live away from it, he was fairly sure he'd stick around. He really wasn't comfortable with this though. It came from breaking into an abandoned house when he was eleven and getting stuck between the stair slats. He shuddered at the memory, and tried to step more lightly. The flat roof of the building could be accessed by what he imagined was once a window, but was now just a frame. Jason cautiously slipped out. He glanced at his watch. Plenty of time. He set up the sniper with care, treating every part lovingly and with utmost respect. Then he blacked out.

------

Ziva watched Redding come around with amusement as she crouched in the window frame, a gun lazily aimed at him even though his wrists were bound to a drainpipe.

"What the heck?" The southern twang from his childhood that he no longer used slipped through. He glanced out across the street, at the house of his target. He could see a bullet hole through the window, and slight blood spatter. "Oh jeez."

She smiled sympathetically, and took a business card out of her top pocket, with nothing but the name Ziva Judd and a mobile number. She tucked it with a knife she had taken from him earlier into his pocket.

"Good luck cutting yourself free. And tell your boss to give me a call if he ever wants a professional."

* * *

_Not my best chapter ever, I know. But I'm just happy I managed it. Reviews would make me all the happier._


	5. One Second Since

_Disclaimer: Guess._

_A/N: SORRY, SORRY. I had no idea what to do with the next chapter - I even cheated since I wrote most of this ages ago when I first got the TNT idea (the McGee bit)._

_A/N2: Each section of this skips varying amounts of time._

* * *

Ziva brushed a strand of hair out of her face with the back of her hand.

"You OK?" Jason teased. "Need a break?"

She barked a laugh. "Yes, as a matter of fact. It is harder work to fight than to fall on your back repeatedly."

"Oh yeah? You try it." She gave him a look. He thought over his sentence, and grinned. "Woah, that was a stupid thing to say. C'mon Zee, I'm shattered. Let's clock off."

"You are lazy, Redding," she stated, and took a quick gulp of water.

"I'm not lazy, Judd, I simply know how to take life easily and I do not derive pleasure from pain."

Ziva inwardly stiffened at the use of her cover name. It was very easy to relax around Jason, the SOO compound had an enjoyable atmosphere that was contradictory to its purpose. You could see groups of mercenaries practising raids in full combat gear, then walk a few hundred metres and see two friends enjoying a laugh and a drink, against the background of the fence separating them from the rest of the world. She and Jason wandered along the pathways to the small apartment block that they both lived in. They went to Ziva's, and Jason collapsed on the couch, more comfortable for wear. She shook her head with a smile and threw him a can of beer, before nestling into the comfortable armchair that she had created a nest of cushions of, moulded now into an imprint of her shape. She took a drink of orange juice.

"You're a prude, Ziva. It's four o'clock, have a proper drink."

"You're an alcoholic, Jason. And I'd like to see you have a drink when you have a meeting with the boss in three hours."

He laughed loudly at her. "I'd forgotten about that."

"I am just preparing myself for the smell of those –"

"Cigars! I know. Where does he get those things?! They're _vile._"

"I just want to know what is in them."

"See, that's what I really _don't _want to know."

A twinge of sadness hit Ziva as she messed around with Jason, a distant aching for something she'd lost or left behind.

She had been living in the compound for a whole year.

-----

She pulled on her rucksack. "Come on, let's get out of here."

A team of four nodded back at her, all dressed in camouflage, all with massive camping rucksacks, all armed to the teeth. Mossad and the SOO had their similarities. As they hiked through the jungle, Ziva's thoughts wandered off, and she found herself somewhere she thought she had managed to let go of. NCIS. She had left NCIS about two and a half years beforehand. She hadn't contacted them for just over two years.

_**I have been assigned a deep cover mission. It has no time frame, and I expect I shall be there for years unable to contact you. The thought is horrifying, but I can do nothing about it. The Director has given me my orders, and I know this is part of what he desires.  
I love you all, and hope we will talk sooner than I expect.  
Ziva**_

That was what she wanted to write. Well, she wanted to write them all individual emails, but she didn't give herself enough time, unable to face the thought. She couldn't even send that though.

**I am afraid I have been assigned a mission. I cannot tell you much about it, but I will be away for a while and I do not know how long.  
I hope you all are well, and I will probably not get your replies, as I will be gone soon.  
Missing you all.  
Love,  
Ziva**

-----

McGee sat down at his typewriter with a sigh. He had purposefully neglected the 6th Deep Six book because he didn't want to write Lisa's departure, and he didn't want to write about the team hearing nothing from her for the past four years. Still, it seemed wrong to write Ziva – Lisa, when she wasn't there. He had thought he might be able to write about her at Mossad, but the idea hurt his head. The writer's block was impregnable. In the time she'd been gone he'd bluffed and worked off pre-written material, managing to make two books from it. He sighed.

_Deep Six: Falling Apart_

_The phone call had shocked the team to the core. Even with all they had been through, especially with all they had been through, the thought that one day, the haven they had built for themselves would fall down around them, not in a crisis or disaster, but simply as the foundations of it were removed over time, that simple and logical thought, had not occurred to them. The building of NCIS had over years become so much more than a workplace, but a strange sort of home to them all. The bullpen was at its core, its atmosphere a strange mix of hard, dedicated work, and banter, its residents completely relaxed with one another. The lab and the morgue, two very different sanctuaries. The lab, with loud music and caffeine, and Amy, was never lacking in energy, whereas the morgue, with the calmer characters of Birdie and Pimmy, and the serene sense of calm that lives in such places, was an altogether more relaxing retreat. Both, however, were perfect to slip away to. The elevator and the director's office took on the personas of two studies, frequented by the 'family's' authorities, the brisk and tough boss, the all powerful director. But the point of this home was not the rooms in it, but the collection of a group of people who cared for each other incredibly deeply, and they never thought to think that one day, one of those people could be called away, with a few words down a phone line. That Lisa did not belong to NCIS is the same way as the other's was not a conceivable thought. What did it matter if one badge said "Officer" and the others said "Agent"? _

He couldn't remember writing ever being this painful. Kate's death had been a little time before the first book was started, and he had skipped over it a bit, so that it didn't hurt so much, and though he imagined it had been bad when he wrote after Director Shepard's death, he couldn't really remember. "The pain you are feeling at the moment is the worst pain you have ever felt". Where did he hear that?

_But it mattered more than any of them could have imagined, until the moment when Ziva_

He couldn't be bothered to start a new sheet of paper, and scored the name out angrily with pen, before skipping down a line.

_Lisa descended the stairs from MTAC, her face ashen, and simply said,_

"_I've been ordered back to Israel," before collapsing into Tommy's arms._

His certainty about where his colleagues' relationship either was or was heading had been shaken, but at any rate it made a good story.

_All McGregor could do was watch in shock, as Tommy whispered in her ear, petty reassurances, all that he could give. He shot a look at Tibbs, and without speaking a word they both ascertained that this was not one of the lover's moments that should be looked away from and ignored, until it was done, but a time for the whole team to help Lisa, and help themselves to believe it would be all right, and come together to hope everything would work out okay. The next few days passed in a blur of packing and barely suppressed sorrow. There were promises to keep in touch that everyone suspected were futile, but no one said so. _

_At the airport the goodbyes were a mix of these, and genuine heartfelt statements._

"_Good luck, Lisa."_

"_Take care of yourself."_

_She had whispered in Tommy's ear at one point, words meant only for him, but that McGregor at his side also heard, although he didn't let on, words more intensely private than "I love you," which they had both said earnestly and aloud, in tones that you would never doubt for one second. McGregor could see she was wondering how to deliver them, whether they should be given with explanation and apology. But, typical of her, she wasted no time on things that Tommy would understand instinctively, just leant into him, and closed her eyes, as if this meant more and hurt more than anything she had ever done, and whispered,_

"_Don't wait for me."_

_The words were a horrific confirmation that this would be hard, if not impossible, a terrible acknowledgement of the foreboding that had been hanging over them for weeks. _

_As she passed through security, and waved one final time, McGregor couldn't help but think 'she doesn't belong in Israel anymore', but only as the words 'in Israel' came to him, did he realise that that was how she had always put it. Lisa had never said she was going home._

------

Ziva Judd stepped into the office of James Tyler. The scent of cigar smoke filled the air, but he wasn't smoking. She grinned. "Good afternoon, boss."

"Congratulations on the Libyan thing – I know you worked hard on that."

"One year of my life experimenting with various substances while fighting off addiction in a Libyan drug ring, and attempting to keep tabs on an international crime lord. Why would you think that was hard work?" She shook her head with a smile.

"How are you?"

"I am recovering, and my payment was perfectly acceptable."

He nodded and looked down at a blank sheet of paper on his desk. "Do you know the date?"

She didn't keep track by date anymore. If he'd asked, she could have told him that it was

Eleven days since she clawed her way out of that Libyan hell-hole.

One year, nineteen days since she had entered it.

Nine years, four months and twenty-seven days since she'd entered the SOO compound for the first time.

Nine years, seven months, and three days since she'd come to Egypt.

**Ten years, to the day, since she'd left Washington D.C.**

One hour, three minutes, since she'd received the attack plan for the compound from Leila.

"You should be better organised, Officer David."

**One second since terror flooded her veins.**

* * *

_Was re-reading that and to any 24 watchers out there - the influence about addiction and drug rings and stuff was probably from 24, but I didn't notice it till after it was written and I can't be bothered changing it._

Review?


	6. The Cost Of Doing Business

_Disclaimer: Ziva. Eli. Don't own. Leila. James Tyler. Jason Redding. The SOO. Do own. That's why I love OCs._

_A/N: AGH! Sorry it's been so long, had real trouble on this one. Mistakes are all mine and mine alone._

_A/N2: For Hannah (YouGottaSingAlong) because I want to get onto TO too, and I hope you feel better, and I really feel sorry about what you have to go through tomorrow, and Rach (CheerChickx) because you really need to finish that chapter and UD already! Also because you were on MSN checking over parts of this for me._

* * *

Silence thickened the air of the room as James Tyler waited for Ziva to respond. She appeared frozen to the spot, but her mind was working furiously, and although weapons were not allowed in the Tyler's office, she was aware of the small knife concealed at her ankle. However she was also aware that one of the hands that lay concealed under papers on his desk rested upon a handgun, which Tyler used without any inhibition. The second hand of a clock ticked gently away, all but drowned out to Ziva by the thumping of her heart. She raised her eyes to meet those of James Tyler. He laughed, and brought the gun out from its feeble concealment, walking round to the front of his desk.

"I'm really very sorry Ziva, you're a good operative and you've made me a lot of money. I'd like to get all melodramatic about betrayal, but it's to be anticipated, isn't it? Neither of us went into this line of work without knowing what to expect. I'm afraid it's just the cost of doing business."

With impressive speed, he aimed and fired three bullets, and Ziva David fell to the ground.

-----

Leila checked her watch for the fourth time in one minute. It was six minutes past the agreed time for Ziva to give the go ahead signal, and nothing had happened. The soldiers around her were getting twitchy, and Director David's impatience burned across continents through the communication lines into her ear.

"Director, Officer David has not made contact. She could be compromised. Do we go ahead with the raid?"

She heard man take a deep breath, and knew he was thinking of what would be safest . . . for the operation. Although on some level she was glad the she knew he was professional, on another Leila wished that her friend's father could sometimes just be her friend's father.

"Keep me updated."

The line cut off. "Yes, Director," Leila breathed to herself.

-----

The pain, searing from where two of the bullets had grazed Ziva's arm as she flung herself to the side, went almost as quickly as it had come, washed away by the flood of adrenalin coursing through her. She violently tugged out her knife and clenched it in her hand. She felt, rather than saw, James Tyler stepping closer to her, slowly taking his aim for the kill shot. Flinging her arm around, she slammed her fist down on his foot, and the blade through it, then yanked it out again, shimmering with blood. She hooked her foot around his leg and tripped him, lunging forward to pin him to the ground. She considered his gun, but noticed it on the floor some distance away, and she slashed his throat open in one swift movement. Blood splattered, shot, and aching, she pulled herself to her feet and looked with some regret at the body. "Nothing personal, James. It is just the cost of doing business, yes?"

-----

The SOO compound was not impregnable. The plan was it would not be discovered, and so while the tall fence and sophisticated alarm system were hard to get around, most if not all of the Mossad officers in Leila's team had dealt with far more difficult operations. So maybe they were too laid back, or maybe they were just unlucky, but when they blew a hole into the fence, six officers fell before the dust had cleared. And when it did, those who were still standing were faced with five SOO recruits blocking the gap, armed with automatic weapons. Had they been in a position to glance at the street behind, they would have seen the whole population of the compound up in arms. The SOO didn't respond well to finding the body of it's leader in his office. Five shots sounded, and the Mossad team half expected to be dead, but the mercenaries facing them had not fired, and one by one they all collapsed to the ground. Despite the circumstances, Leila grinned beneath her helmet, and even Ziva, now making her way over, allowed herself a slight smile.

"Say what you like about Mr Tyler, he has a good taste in guns."

"Ziva! I could hug you right now, but . . ."

"If you do we are likely to be dead," the words were spoken in a light tone, but followed up with a brusque, "Let's go."

-----

Leila and Ziva both miraculously survived but were two of only four from the unit that did. The other team, attacking from the opposite side, were more successful, but Mossad had suffered extreme losses. The streets of the haven that had been the compound were lined with bodies, spilling over with blood. The two woman wandered through them, more at ease, talking. Leila held her helmet under her arm. The manmade oasis had been desecrated beyond repair. Nine years is a long time to spend in a place, but if anyone had asked, Ziva would have still denied the sorrow she felt at its destruction.

"Can you take us to Tyler's office, Zee?"

She nodded and changed direction.

The body was still in the centre of the room, no one had bothered to move it, and blood had soaked into the thick blue carpet. Leila tactfully didn't comment, but moved to a filing cabinet behind the door. Ziva continued toward the desk.

"Ziva." The voice was a breathless gasp, but she recognised it and turned. "You've got to help me, we've got to get out of here."

Jason Redding was bleeding from a wound in his side, badly dressed with what looked like it had once been a scarf. Crippled by his injury, he had summoned the strength to stand, and was holding a gun to Leila's head. "We can use her to bargain. Do you know where they come from?"  
"No."

But as he turned Leila and began to prod her toward the door, he spotted a Star of David tattoo adorning the back of her neck, a string of Hebrew letters surrounding it. "Where no stratagem is, a people falleth; and in the multitude of counsellors there is salvation."

"They're Mossad, Zee," he said, doubling over in pain and dismay colouring his tone.

In a different scenario, Ziva would have laughed at their international reputation. She doubted any intelligence agency would have been willing to trade for Leila, but as soon as Mossad came up, Jason knew he had no hope. He took the safety off, and Ziva came to the cold realisation of what she had to do. Jason had been her way into the SOO, and while she was there he had been her teacher, her partner, her companion, her friend. Even her lover at times.

She fired one bullet into his head, and watched him crumple.

"Adonai, forgive me."

* * *

_Adonai is a Jewish word for god, literally 'master' or 'lord'. I know Ziva's religion is disputed, but I say "God" a lot and I'm not religious, so I figured I was fine no matter what._

_Reviews? *attempts to bat eyelids then realises (again) that she is very bad at batting her eyelids*_


	7. The Bullet Wasn't For Her

**Disclaimer: Booooreeeed of this..........**

**A/N: So this is the last chapter!! It's been a load of fun. Okay, I lie, it's been horrible. This fic has given me unimaginable block, etc, etc, every writing problem on the face of the planet. But I love it. Don't ask me why. I don't know.**

**A massive thanks to all my readers, especially reviewers and faithful followers of the Time Series. The sequel to this is Time Flies, which is complete and posted on my profile, I hope you'll take the time to read. Following Time Flies is Time Out, which will be up and running very shortly.**

**Again, as always, thanks to my co-writer Hannah (YouGottaSingAlong), I know you didn't work on this one, but just for the series in general.**

**Also Em (Tiva4evaxxx), Al (FadeIntoTheBackground), Rach (CheerChickx), Doug (journalofcrime) hope to hear from you again soon.**

* * *

Ziva David scowled at the young man who was examining her. He smiled in return, used to this treatment from many of his colleagues.

"You are not a doctor."

"No, I am not," he gently mocked her, just furthering the scowl. "But we both know you would hate to see a doctor even more than you hate me. Can you follow the light with your eyes please?"

She reluctantly obeyed – occasionally glancing away over to the door, eager to get out.

"I have no idea why Mossad officers are so against getting medical attention," he murmured, more to himself than her, but audible. "Were the federal agents in America as stubborn?"

The mention of NCIS caused Ziva to tense further. "You are also a Mossad officer," she pointed out, ignoring his question.

"…. wrong question…." he noted.

"Do you ever _not _say what is in your head?"

"Freedom of speech is a luxury, don't you think?" he grinned.

She shook her head, but couldn't stop the smallest of smiles. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but was cut off by Eli David entering the room.

"Daniels – a moment with Officer David?"

He closed the small first aid kit he had been working from, with what Ziva thought looked like a forced smile. "Of course, Director." When he reached the door, he turned back for a second to see Ziva still looking at him. He rolled his eyes at the back of the older man, and mouthed 'good luck'. She spluttered with shocked laughter, amazed that he would have the audacity to do that about the Director, and to his daughter.

-----

"So you are Officer Daniels?"

"Isaac, please."

She considered his reply, before eventually saying, "Ziva. It is nice to meet you, Isaac."

He grinned at her again, and she couldn't resist smiling back at him. "Worse," she said.

"Sorry?"

"The federal agents in America.... they were worse."

-----

She'd never been to Israel before. It was a strange thing to be thinking about, perhaps, considering the circumstances, but she hadn't. She briefly considered staying a little while afterward, but it was no more than a fleeting fantasy. If Jason Redding had taught his sister anything, it was the importance of haste. Thinking of him caused the anger to surge in her again, the anger that had brought her to this place, the anger that drove her onward every day, the anger that pushed her to a single purpose, a single goal, a single objective – to hurt Ziva David. It fuelled her to break emotional limits she'd never reached before, past the slaughter of her colleagues, friends and brother. Every action was motivated by the need to be here, at this window, at this time, waiting. Waiting for her. Heat and anticipation formed miniscule beads of sweat across her forehead. The sun was harsh, beating down on her pale skin – it had always irritated her that even spending so long in Egypt with the SOO and so much time in Middle Eastern countries on jobs she was still so vulnerable to this weapon of nature. Her blonde hair was scraped into a high ponytail, and green eyes pierced through the scope of the silenced rifle she held. It was a typical scenario, one she and many others had been in thousands of times before. If David had any siblings left, she would have targeted them, but she had thoroughly done her research. What she had found had even drawn up sympathy from some depths of whatever was left within her. But she quelled it, and continued on.

----

Ba'al watched his wife and Ziva walk down the street, having turned in their reports and off to find something to do during their forced leave. Leila was being slightly more amicable about it that Ziva, but not much. He laughed aloud to himself, thinking of all the time off Leila would soon have to take, and how it would add to her bad mood immeasurably.

"Officer."

He continued to stare out the window.

"Officer Segal."

He jerked around, grabbing the man behind him by the shoulder, shoving him to the glass. "You're on reconnaissance, you don't know what you're looking for but you know it's important – what do you see?"

Immediately the gaze of the other officer became calculating as he scanned across the building and up and down the road.

"Am I being paranoid, Cohen?"

"Rifle scope…." It took him a second to make a connection. "Ziva."

"Get your stuff."

The man slotted a clip into his gun and took off the safety. "Shall we go? Are you warning the director?"

Ba'al glanced up at Eli David's office, his indecision only momentary. "No time. Move."

-----

She watched the two dark haired women walking down the street. Ziva, she recognised on sight, and her stomach twisted. She hovered her finger on the trigger. Sarah had never aspired to be a killer. Though she couldn't deny the adrenalin rush, she didn't get form it what her brother had. But this one time, she was determined to enjoy the act of taking another's life. Just the once. Her finger began to move.

-----

"Stop it!"

Ziva laughed. "Stop what?"

"Stop imagining it!"

This just caused the two to both break out into further laughter. "You are the one who put the image in my mind! The thought of you being…. Well, congratulations, yes?"

Leila leant over to push against Ziva's arm, shoving her to the side, making herself stumble over also. "Thank you. And get it _out _of your head."

-----

Ba'al and Cohen battered through the door, firing at the young woman standing by the window. She twisted in shock, bullets slamming into her. Her hand tugged the rifle slightly down as she fell, and her finger caught on the trigger.

The bullet had been aiming for Ziva David's head. It would have hit her. Instead it hit Leila Segal. In the stomach. Ba'al could only watch from the window as Ziva called for help, and tried to stop the bleeding that just continued to spread, and his unborn child died.

------

It had nearly been a month, Ziva realised, since she had gotten back to Israel. Nearly a whole month. And she hadn't been near her email. This only occurred to her as she waited in the hospital. She felt a hand cover hers, and looked up to see Isaac. She smiled weakly.

"Thank you."

"What for?" he asked, seeming surprised.

She laughed at him. "Nothing," she replied, and held tighter onto him.

-------

She made a decision that night. In a dark corner of her apartment, she started up her laptop. The screen cast a glow across her face, and illuminated the trail of tears down her cheeks. She opened her inbox.

**Inbox (231)**

**Gibbs……………….**

**Abby Sciuto………Please please please be okay, please please please**

**Abby Sciuto……….Where are you?!?!?!?!?!**

**Tony DiNozzo……...Not heard from you in a while…**

**T. McGee…………...Hey Ziva**

**Director Vance…….Keep in touch**

**Abby Sciuto………..Re: Hey!!**

**Tony DiNozzo……....**

**T. McGee**

…**.**

She didn't bother going onto the next page. All the emails were at least five years old.

**Are you sure you want to empty your inbox?**

No. Not sure. She was never sure anymore. But she knew it was only right. And she promised herself she'd never falter, never give in to temptation. Until she was out of the madness of high level field work, she wouldn't contact them. She wouldn't put them in danger like that. Not like she had with Leila, who had survived, but barely. The bullet wasn't for her. And none of the many bullets in the world with Ziva David's name on them would ever hit anyone from NCIS, for as long as she could prevent it.

-------

More years passed. Time doesn't heal, Ziva knew better than anyone. But it got her to the point where she didn't think of, wish for, the same place, the same people, every single day. Though she was now in the position where she could contact them again. Maybe her father felt she had paid her dues, or something, but she had been offered the job of Mossad Head of U.S. Intelligence Liasons. Less field work, more security, and the chance to be in America. She couldn't imagine meeting them again, but she would, and hope they'd forgive her. Isaac had helped her to move on after choosing to let them think she was dead, and he would help her again now, she was sure. She had become his control officer – they had found it amusing, Eli's petty way of lashing out. A "he's your responsibility then" like a child being given a pet by a grudging parent. But they worked well together. There were periods of absence, both of them working, but it was comfortable, and neither of them ever pushed it. It was about relaxing, and having fun, and letting loose. And that was why she didn't notice when she fell in love.

Only when it began to hurt a little more when either of them left for work, or when she worried a little more when he was in danger. And now she was worried sick. He was in Poland, undercover with neo-Nazis. But two days before he had gone dark. All manner of things that could have happened repeated in her head.

"Ziva?"

"Yes, Jaron?"

"My wife wants me home on time today. Could you scan my assignments and email them to me? I'll do them when she goes to bed."

She looked at him.

"It's a security breach."

"I'm really sorry . . ."

"Go, Jaron."

She wished she could say that they took rules like this more seriously, but the truth was, most of her co-workers who were married were having problems, and distant as they tried to keep themselves, they were all friends.

"Thanks, I owe you one, Zi."

"You owe me about a million."

He nodded and rushed out of the room. She didn't want to be the hay that broke the camels back of his marriage. She resigned herself to an hour more in the office and started on his files. Jaron was part of the Kidon and most of his files were assassination orders. She flicked through them, mildly curious, but mainly bored, when she passed a familiar picture. Her heart in her throat, she flicked back.

**Target:** Officer Isaac Daniels

She felt like throwing up. She scanned over the rest of the page and nine words jumped out at her: -

'treason and assistance in the death of Ari Haswari'.

Isaac was a teenager, working hard to move his way up the ranks in Israel when Ari died. Ziva wasn't sure if he'd even travelled out of Asia at that stage. There was only one person that his death was meant to affect. Her. Which meant that her father must know that she killed Ari. His signature marked the bottom of the page. Shaking, her hands reached the speed-dial on her phone. She had never moved the man she was calling off of it, could never stand to. A male voice answered,

"Hello?"

"Gibbs? I need help."

* * *

**I'd like it if you dropped an 'end of fic' line for me!**

**I'll re-iterate, the sequel is Time Flies *hint hint*. C'mon, wasn't that cliffhanger big enough to get you reading?**


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